The Lion's Trial
by RockyMountainGirl
Summary: Spoilers. Occurs after AFFC and ADWD. Brienne takes an unwitting Jaime to face Lady Stoneheart's judgement, but hopes to find a way to save him, her friends, and keep her vow. Jaime reflects on his past mistakes and hopes for the future. Some Jaime/Brienne. Will have some angst (later).
1. The Reunion

Author's note: SPOILER ALERT. This takes place after AFFC (and somewhat after ADWD, I've only read the last of Jaime's chapters so I'm not sure what else is going on, so there might be some inconsistencies with ADWD) and there will be spoiler for everything up to this point. Brienne takes Jaime to face Lady Stoneheart's judgement, but tries to find a way to keep her oaths and save Pod, Hyle, and Jaime. Jaime reflects on his past and his hopes of redemption. Will definitely have some Jaime/Brienne hints and a fair bit of angst. Honestly, I have no idea how long this is going to end up, because I keep of thinking of things to add. So, I just hope some of you enjoy the ride. Please leave reviews!

**1\. Jaime**

Jaime's white armor glinted in the late evening sun as he mounted Honor as Peck held the reigns. He thanked him, and trotted up beside Brienne, whose horse had been returned to her. She looked so haggard, Jaime almost reconsidered his decision to leave immediately. Brienne had told him that the Hound and the Stark girl were only a day's ride away, but the day was already nearly done. But if what else she said was true, he dared not delay.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

She nodded, her eyes avoiding his.

As they set out from Pennytree, Jaime was aware of the curious eyes of his men and the villagers in their gated keep. They could not understand why he was leaving alone with this strange woman the sentries had found, nor could he let them know his purpose. _The whole lot of them could be in Cersei's bed, ready to inform her. She'd put me in chains and let the Hound murder Sansa, and probably reward him for it. _He was not entirely sure of how true that was. He was her twin after all, and lovers, but Cersei's vengeance was fearsome, and that might not matter much at all.

They rode in silence until the town had disappeared back into the Teats, and then Jaime finally allowed himself to really look at her. Her skin was even paler than usual and there were dark, puffy bags under her blue eyes. Those blue eyes, the only truly beautiful part of her, were red-rimmed and bloodshot. Whether from lack of sleep or tears, he could not tell. But he could not imagine Brienne crying easily. She rode stiffly in her saddle and winced with nearly every step. She kept a hand on her side, and he suspected she was suffering some bruised or broken ribs. Her other hand was in a splint that almost reached her elbow, but was doing well enough that she was able to hold the reigns. _And maybe her sword as well_, Jaime thought bitterly, looking at his own golden hand.

There was something else as well… a thick blue bruise poking up from her cloak beneath her chin. There had been no lacked for hanged bodies by the side of the road all throughout the Riverlands.

"Brienne," he said softly, "What _happened _to you?"

She said nothing, her eyes scanning the trees apprehensively. Jaime was reminded of the cool, silent way she had treated him when they had first left Riverrun together and felt his anger rising. _I was a different man then._ He reminded himself. _I had two hands, but was half blind. I only wanted to return to Cersei._ He looked at Brienne. _What do I want now?_ The thought took him by surprise.

"You said you were bitten." Jaime pressed on. "Was it wolves? Ser Dermot and his scouts said that they are bolder than any beasts have a right to be."

"No. It was Biter."

Jaime remembered the pale, monstrous man with his filed teeth, and shuddered. "Bloody Mummers. I trust you took care of him."

Brienne frowned. "No. It was some bastard boy. Biter…" she looked as if she was going to be sick. "He… he had me beaten, but the boy killed him," she ended flatly.

The silence weighed heavy between them.

"I killed Rorge, though." Brienne finally offered. "And the Mummers are no more. They are scattered to the winds. I also encountered Timeon, Pyg, and Shagwell. I killed them too." She sounded almost sad.

"My, you have been busy." Jaime grinned, but could not help but feel disappointed. He had hoped to have been the one to kill Shagwell. He remembered how the fool had mocked him after he had lost his hand. _But if anyone else deserved to kill him, it's her._ _The man tried to rape her, and was jesting with all the rest as she fought for her life in the bear pit._ The memory made him furious all over again. _May they all burn in the deepest of the seven hells. Maybe my lord father will be waiting there for them. _That made him smile. _Besides, Zollo still remains. I will kill him, but not until after I cut off his sword hand and make him fight me with his off hand. _

By then the shadows were growing long and the wind was blowing colder. The western horizon was glowing fifty shades of orange and pink and gold. They stopped long enough to eat some of the bread and cheese Jaime had brought with them and continued onward. _She is not speaking to me, _Jaime realized. Brienne had never been a woman of many words, and when she did speak it often made Jaime wish she wasn't. She could prattle on about honor and oaths and justice, and find a way to remind Jaime of all his mistakes. However, he found himself wanting to know everything that had happened since he had given her Oathkeeper and sent her away to find Sansa Stark, but all his questions were met with short one-word answers and no explanations. Eventually he had given up. _She really is such a troublesome wench_, he mused irritably.

Well after the last shades of red had disappeared from the horizon Brienne stopped. "Jaime," she started, and then seemed rethink what she was about to say, "We should stop for the night."

Jaime considered this and looked down the beaten game trail they were following. The moon was only a thin sliver in the sky and offered little light, and there were many roots that could trip up the horses in the dark and delay them further. However, he was loathe to stop as well. _We must reach Sansa in time. She's my last chance to show that I have more than shit for honor. _He had spared Edmure at Riverrun, but it was Catelyn's daughters he had promised. With Arya lost, Sansa was the only one left. _But where would I send her once I have her? With Riverrun gone, there is no place safe for her. _He considered sending her to Casterly Rock to live with her uncle, but knew that would be no good. _Maybe I can set her up as a serving girl in a manse somewhere across the Narrow Sea_._ But best not think on it now… one challenge at a time._

"The Hound is not like to give the girl up without a fight. You will need your energy." Brienne added when he hadn't answered.

Jaime grimaced. "Little good sleep will do me, I'll still be short a sword hand." He knew he wouldn't have a chance against the Hound, with or without sleep, but Brienne looked as if she were about to fall off her horse. "But as you say, we'll stop for the night."

As they hobbled the horses Jaime heard a chorus of wolf song in the distance. The sound seemed to send ice into his bones. _A cold sound,_ he thought. _A song from the north_. _Perhaps it is a good omen._ _Or perhaps they are crying for our blood._

There were also outlaws to consider, and suddenly Jaime was aware of how exposed they were. Jaime frowned. _Have I fallen so low that I jump at shadows?_

After they ate some salt beef Jaime stood. "I'll take the first watch. Get some sleep."

"But Jaime…"

"No." He said firmly. "You need to sleep more than I do. Just for a few hours. I promise."

Brienne looked at him, her mouth open as if she were about to protest. But she only nodded and leaned against a tree. Jaime turned away to face the black night, and wonder how in the world he was going to face the Hound.


	2. The Last Night

**2\. Brienne**

Brienne closed her eyes, but she did not sleep. Painted on the back of her eyelids was the image of Podrick, gasping as the life was choked from his small body. When she could not bear to look anymore, she cracked her eyes open just enough to see Jaime. In his white armor, he was little more than a grey shadow outlined against the black of night. His good hand rested on the hilt of his longsword, now strapped to his right hip so he could draw it across his body, and his other hand… _Golden_, Brienne remembered. _Fake. Beautiful, but useless._

Still, he carried himself with more confidence than she had seen in him since before Harrenhall. She hoped it was not unfounded. If he were to have any hope of getting out of this alive, he would need all the skill of the old Jaime Lannister, and that of the Warrior besides.

_What am I going to do? _She thought. Half a hundred times she had almost warned Jaime, but each time she held her tongue for fear of other ears and eyes lurking in the woods. The Brotherhood still held Pod and Hyle, as insurance that she would keep her word and bring them the Kingslayer. _What else can I do, but keep my promise? _But Brienne had made many promises. She had promised Pod that she would protect him, as any knight was sworn to protect his squire. She had promised Jaime that she would find and defend Sansa Stark... And she had promised Lady Stoneheart and her outlaws that she would bring them the Kinglslayer.

So many oaths and promises that Brienne thought she was being torn into pieces. She had always tried so hard to be honorable, do the right thing, keep her promises… and now Brienne was not sure that she could keep any of them.

Brienne wanted to cry, to scream, to fight... Her hand instinctively grasped the hilt of her sword. _Oathkeeper_, she told herself. Never had she wanted to break an oath so badly as now. "Sword", she had screamed, desperate, the word lingering in the autumn air beneath the thick branches of the trees full of corpses. Now, the word reverberated in her mind. _Sword, sword, sword_.

How could she even be certain that they would keep _their_ word? Could she really believe that these men would just be willing to let Pod, Hyle, and herself just walk away. _Thoros. He will honor his word. _The red priest had stood out from the other outlaws. Brienne had sensed his despair at what his fellows had become. _He spoke to me of kindness and mercy. He told me that I would not find it there, but I think I found some in him. Yes, and of justice as well. _Thoros had spoken longingly of justice. _Maybe_…

For the first time since she had been flung into the mud by Biter, Brienne felt strength running through her. She felt every bruise, every broken bone, and every ache, but it felt like nothing compared to the fire that was pounding through her veins. For a moment she thought that maybe her fever had returned to her, but she knew better. _It is life. I am alive. I can still fight. And I have a plan._

"Jaime," she called out suddenly. He turned. "How good are you with your left hand?"

He seemed taken aback. "So, you haven't bitten off your tongue." He jested. "You've hardly spoken ten words since we set out."

Brienne ignored that. "You're avoiding the question. How good are you?"

Jaime's grin faltered. "Better than I was when I first lost my hand, but not so good as before that."

"Show me." Brienne drew Oathkeeper. Jaime stared at her, then slowly drew his own sword.

"What…" he started, but then Brienne swung, and he moved his steel to meet hers. The force of the impact made a sudden blast of pain shoot up her broken arm in its splint, so fierce that she almost dropped her blade.

"I need to know if you'll be able to face the Hound", she lied, adjusting to a two-handed grip. Her left hand could take some of the brunt of the impacts, but her right could still help control the swing.

"I've been practicing. Every night, with Ilyn Payne." He swung back. The swing was weak, Brienne noticed as she blocked it, but well aimed, and his feet were sure. That was good. "But he is no Hound. And neither are you my lady. Not in your current state." He blocked another of her blows, but she could see his wrist shake just so slightly from the weight of the blow. _Not so hard then, _Brienne noted. _He must be able to keep his sword_.

"I don't want to hurt you", he continued, but Brienne dodged his blow and hit his thigh with the flat of her sword and tripped him to the ground.

She sheathed her blade again and sat next to him. "You were saying."

He gave her an exasperated look, beads of sweat in his brow gleamed in the scant moonlight, silver among the gold of his hair. "That was mad. Those weren't tourney blades"

"There won't be tourney blades tomorrow, either." Brienne whispered back.

"It's dark. One of us could have tripped and fallen on our swords."

Brienne had not considered that. Such dangers seemed so trivial and unlikely compared to what she knew would come. _The night is dark and full of terrors_, she thought, _but none so terrible as those we can see in the full light of day._ Her arm was throbbing and her side was screaming in pain, but she felt a strange calm. _This isn't just any night. This is our last night, and I would face all the terrors of the night if it meant this one would never end._

Brienne was suddenly aware of how close they were to each other. She thought of Renly. _I do not want to lose Jaime as I lost him. Only to hold him as he's dying. If this is our last night…_

She leaned forward and kissed him.

It didn't last long, just a lingering touch on the corner of his mouth, and then she drew away quickly. Jaime stared at her, but not with any of the revulsion she had feared she would see there, only shock.

"What was…" he started.

"Nothing. I'm sorry." She was stumbling over her words. Brienne was thankful for the darkness and hoped it concealed the flushing she felt creeping up her neck.

"No." Jaime murmured softly. "Don't ever be sorry for that." And he kissed her back.


	3. Songs of Death

**A/N: **So, this story has been a little slow going, and I apologize. I honestly meant for them to have met the Brotherhood by now, but things just didn't pan out that way. Anyway, I promise that things will really pick up next chapter, and thank you so much if you have stuck with this story so far! As always, reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated.

**3\. Jaime**

Jaime awoke with the taste of Brienne still on his lips. For a moment, he was confused as to where he was. He had dreamed that he was at Casterly Rock, in his old bedchamber. He had been young, no older than ten. He remembered that it was just after one of his mother's maids had caught him and Cersei together, and their mother had moved their bedrooms to different sides of the castle. That was the first time Cersei had snuck into his bedroom…only in the dream it had been Brienne. Stout and shy-faced, she had been a child as well, except for her eyes which shone bright with a desire that betrayed her age. Then they had kissed, and suddenly they were grown again. Jaime found both his hands clutching her waist, and her arms holding him tight to her body. They had tumbled onto the large featherbed in a heap of skin and sighs, which is perhaps why the hard ground beneath him now felt like a rude shock.

However, it had not all been a dream. Jaime closed his eyes again and remembered the actual events of the night before after their midnight sword fight. He pictured how the darkness had added an enticing depth to those beautiful blue eyes, like two dark pools with unknown treasures at the bottom, dragging a man down to drown in them. He felt again her lips, clumsy at first, but which quickly became as bold and fierce as she was with a sword. Jaime was not entirely certain how long at lasted, but it could not have been very long, and it certainly was not as long as he would have wished. Brienne had pulled herself away and got to her feet and insisted that Jaime get some sleep, and that had been the end of it.

With a yawn and a groan, Jaime got to his feet and saw that Brienne was already busy saddling the horses. She turned at the noise and looked at him, and turned back around without a word. _So we're not talking about it? Just as well_. Jaime thought. _She's probably right to do so. We have more important matters to worry about._

After a quick breakfast, they set out again. Jaime's phantom fingers twitched with anticipation. Despite having no more than four hours of sleep, he felt oddly well rested and ready to face what would come. If they succeeded, he would no longer be remembered as merely an oathbreaker, and if they failed…. Well, dead men generally don't really mind what is said about them.

They talked little on the road, and eventually the conversation came to a complete lull. To fill in the silence Jaime began to hum an old war tune, one of many that had arisen from the Blackfyre Rebellion. Shortly, as he reached the last few verses, as the army of the true ruler Daeron Targaryen faced their fates on the bloody fields of Ashford, he heard Brienne's voice quietly and sadly pick up the melody…

_O, how the banners waved, the drums did boom_

_While thousands marched unto their doom._

_The armies clashed with shield and sword_

_Of many a brave and valiant Lord_

_The dragons clashed with fearsome rage_

_That hadn't been seen for many an age_

_The sounds of death hung on every ear_

_Whilst brothers died on each other's spears_

And so on.

When the song was finished Jaime gave Brienne a searching look. "You sing, my lady? I would've thought you too busy in the training yard."

"No." She replied brusquely. "I quite liked songs, and I learned them all. But I had no talent for singing. Lady Stark asked me to sing for her one time, back at Riverrun. Before…" Suddenly, her eyes became distant and misty. "I once told Lady Stark that there was no pity in dying in battle… that songs would be sung of us, and that it is always summer in the songs. But now I wonder what good are songs to the dead. We say that the brave live on in them, but that is a lie. A song is not life." She sighed. "I was so foolish. A knight of summer, but winter comes for us all, in the end.

Jaime was dumbstruck. _What has brought this on?_

"Well," he said finally, "I suppose that's why we must choose to survive to hear the songs they write about us."

"Ser Jaime," she smiled wistfully, "now you are being foolish. Since when has anyone had much of a choice in whether they live or die?"


	4. The Betrayal

**A/N: **I'm so sorry I haven't posted in a while. I AM planning on continuing to work on this but just a warning that between work and grad school starting soon, updates may take a little while. Thanks for reading!

**4\. Jaime**

The day was fast approaching noon, but low clouds blocked the sun, giving the forest a somber, gray atmosphere. Jaime found himself growing restless as time wore on. They had to be close now, and the oppressive silence made it feel as if every tree and rock was holding its breath in waiting.

"How much farther, my lady?" He asked, shifting uncomfortable in his saddle.

"Not far." Brienne was sitting upright, alert. Her eyes were searching the trees and bushes. Not ten minutes later she dismounted her horse. Jaime followed suit, although he could not see any sign of a camp or cookfire to suggest that the Hound had been here.

The path they had brought them to a small dip in the ground. Thick bushes and tall, bare oaks surrounded the hollow, but inside it was mostly covered in scrawny, brown grass. There was nothing very distinctive about the place, but there was the faint, gagging smell of rot in the wind now. It made Jaime shiver. _This is a foul place,_ he thought, eying the hidden ridges all about them.

As if in answer to his suspicions, a tall man in a dogs-head helm and a ragged yellow cloak stepped forth from the brush…but it was not the Hound.

Jaime felt a wave of relief wash over him and he could not contain the almost giddy laugh that leapt to his lips. "My lady," he called to Brienne who turned sharply, seeing the man for the first time. "You have been mistaken! This is not Clegane, only some peasant gone rabid from the war."

The would-be Hound scowled and spat. Jaime remembered the horrific tales of the Hound at Saltpans. _It must have been him_, Jaime realized. _He is cruel, but that does not make him a great fighter. I may beat him yet. _ He examined the man closely, his left hand grasping for his sword hilt.

"Where is the Stark girl?" Jaime called out.

"Is that what the bitch told you to bring you here?" The man's laugh erupted like a cruel bark. "She ain't here. It's just me and my friends."

More men were now stepping out of the trees and bushes all around them. They were a ragged bunch with mismatched pieces of armor and faded sigils here and there, but most wore no more than common clothes and scraps of boiled leather. However, most of them were equipped with weapons, and Jaime could tell even from this distance that the majority of these were of decent make, on a level of those made in King's Landing for hedge knights and minor lords during tourneys. Most of them had swords, but a few bows and short-hafted axes were also in evidence. All of their weapons were drawn.

"Brienne?" Jaime asked in disbelief. He felt breathless, as if all the air had been knocked out of him. It felt as if Robert's warhammer had crashed into his chest, as it had Rhaegar's on the Trident. He felt dizzy and sick and hurt. It was the pain that shocked him most. _No. I trusted you. _

Her eyes were fixed on the ground and would not rise to meet his. Jaime felt his fury rising, burning in his blood and overcoming the pain that ripped at his chest. _ I trusted you! I gave you Oathkeeper!_

The outlaws had formed a ring about them, slowly moving forward to close them in. Jaime drew his sword and heard the creak of bending bows reply. He counted at least ten bowmen, close enough that even the worst shot among them would find their mark. Jaime and Brienne's horses were where they had left them a little ways up the path, but the men had reached them already. _If I can just fight far enough to reach the horses…_ but he knew it would be impossible. _Still, better to die with a sword in my hand then taken captive again. _He remembered Harrenhall. _Never again_.

He took a step forward and raised his arm to swing, but suddenly Brienne was behind him. She grabbed his arm and twisted it until he had to let go and the sword slipped out of his grasp. "What the…" he started, but then she kicked his knees forward and placed a large hand on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. Jaime glared up at her, and it seemed to him that her face had never seemed so ugly. "Traitorous wench," he growled, but at least Brienne had the decency not to flinch at the insult.

The bowmen relaxed their strings while the Hound walked forward, a smug look on his face that eerily resembled a snarl under the helm. "Good work, woman. I must say, I thought that you'd just leave your friends to die to save your own skin. Here you go, Tom." He tossed a sack of coins back to a small, lanky man armed with nothing but a harp standing among the bandits.

The minstrel caught the coins deftly and pocketed them. He shrugged with a crooked grin as he plucked a random string. "What can I say, Lem? I have a weakness for wine, women, and good songs. And there's certain to be a good song to be made by the end of this."

Jaime struggled against Brienne, but she held him firmly. The movement brought back the Hound's full attention. He was close enough that Jaime could see that his nose was crooked, adding to the grotesque visage. _Gods, he's almost as ugly as the real Hound._ Suddenly, the big man struck him hard across the face with the back of his hand. Brienne released him in surprise and Jaime went sprawling. He could taste warm blood in his mouth. He was too shocked to make a move before the big man was on him and binding him with a long rope.

The Hound cursed. "It's gonna be hard to bind your hands, seeing as you have only one. The rope will just slide off that ugly stump of yours."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to make your job more difficult." Jaime snarled in reply.

The man shoved his face forcefully back into the dirt and proceeded to bind his legs instead. Then, he lifted Jaime to a kneeling position, took the remainder of the rope, and wound it around Jaime's entire body, arms and all. He then dropped Jaime back to the ground, leaving him feeling quite like a worm in the rotting leaves.

When the outlaws went to bind Brienne she gave no fight. _They are tying her up to. They don't trust her._ He was still furious at her, but his better sense was beginning to return. _They made her do this… somehow_. But it didn't matter. He followed her gaze, which was searching the faces of the crowd. Something she saw there, or didn't see, made her almost seem to relax a little as the Hound finished the last knot and pushed her to her knees beside him.

The last remaining outlaws with drawn weapons sheathed them again as Brienne was relieved of Oathkeeper and Jaime's sword was claimed by a sallow, greasy one-eyed outlaw from where it had fallen.

The bandits seemed to start celebrating. Wine skins were passed around and the minstrel

played a few lines of unfamiliar, self-made songs. They were cheering and drinking to the capture of the Kingslayer. Jaime caught catches of words among the conversations, and heard several mention of a Lady. _Lady Stoneheart_, he guessed. _I suppose I'll finally get to see this shadow who has been causing so much trouble for us. She will find out how dangerous it is to cage a lion_. _The last ones who dared were Robb and Catelyn Stark, and they are both dead. She should have asked them what happens when you cross a Lannister. _

True, Lady Catelyn had freed him and he had vowed to keep his promise to her, but Jaime could still remember the indignity of living in that dark cell, wasting away in his own filth. _They will wish they had killed me when they had the chance._ He glanced at Brienne. _And what of her? What was her part in all this? Besides turning me over. _Jaime's gut twisted again. _The wench can die with the rest of them for all I care_.

The celebrating didn't last long. With a nod between the Hound, the minstrel, and a red-haired archer, the outlaws began moving away through the trees. The Hound carried Jaime over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Brienne they trusted enough to keep her feet free, although her hands were still bound.

A little distance away was where they had left some horses. Not enough for the whole company, Jaime counted, but enough for whatever self-appointed leaders they might have. They had also brought his and Brienne's horse along with them. The company paused briefly. The three main leaders- The Hound, whom the others called Lem, the minstrel Tom, and the tall red-haired archer that was called simply Archer- conspired together some distance away, and then announced that they would ride together with five other men on the horses to take the prisoner's more swiftly to 'the Lady.'

"If I'm so important to her, why didn't she come to greet me herself." Jaime mocked. "Rather a poor why to greet such an esteemed guest, this woman has very rough manners for a lady indeed."

That earned him another hefty smack from Lem that left him reeling. "She's off to greet some other nobles who are out of their keep on a hunting party. Your Frey uncle, that one that took Riverrun, is among them, we heard. From none other than our dear old Tom."

The minstrel bowed low in reply. "But don't worry. She'll be back soon enough."

The three left to prepare the horses. Lem claimed Jaime's strong, beautiful horse for his own. Instead they gave Jaime and Brienne on of their old horses to share, an old, swaybacked sorrel Jaime was convinced would break under their combined weight. Jaime was thrown over the rump, but Brienne was allowed to sit in the saddle. Her hands were tied in front, so she could grip the reigns, but the poor beast would have no chance of outrunning the other fitter horses, even if Brienne had a mind to run for it. Jaime didn't think she did.

In fact, something had been perplexing him for a while know, but he could only just place what it was. Throughout the whole ordeal, Brienne had not fought. She hadn't struggled while she was being tied, nor protested at any of the crude or bawdy remarks thrown at her. That woman could never keep her mouth shut. Even in Harrenhall it had gotten them into all sorts of trouble. _So why isn't she now?_


End file.
